The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

Chapter 15: Birthday Gift (2)

"Hurry up."

The sound of dozens of horse hooves climbing the mountain came with a stern command.

From knights in heavy armor to those with shoulder guards, the flag with Histania's emblem, a lion, fluttered midway up the mountain.

Rowen, leading them at the forefront, had a troubled expression on his face.

He wasn’t facing down a powerful foe.

It wasn’t a battle against the Demon King's forces.

Nor was it the suppression of a rebel army.

Yet Rowen's lips were drier than they had ever been before.

"There won't be any trouble. Father, you know the youngest is timid. Someone as fearful as her wouldn’t risk her life on such a challenge."

Mixed with the eldest son's sarcastic attempts at consolation,

"That’s right. Just like the last time, she'll be hiding in an inn and will return soon. You’ll see, by the time she comes back to the manor, she'll be holed up in her room."

And the second child's irritated retorts were heard, but Rowen's ears caught none of it.

—Save me… I don't want to die like this.

The only thing that filled Rowen's mind at the moment was the last image of the youngest daughter that the blue screen had shown.

‘It must be a hallucination.'

The harrowing sight of his youngest daughter being savagely killed by an orc.

She was holding a sword with her blood-soaked hands, searching for her father, an image still so vivid to him. It had seemed too real to be a hallucination, and the voice of his daughter calling for him was clear.

The idea of Hanna dying was absurd. A daughter of the Histania family being killed by merely an orc?

For a moment, his vision went dark.

Rowen jerked his head up and shook the thoughts away.

‘It must be the strange words of the eldest. It's just peculiar thoughts because the situations overlapped.'

‘Maybe it's due to overworking lately.'

‘The second child is right; the youngest is a coward. She must be at home for sure. When I get back, I definitely must make her stop wielding the sword.'

Countless excuses swirled in his head, but Rowen knew. The hallucination he saw wasn't simply due to fatigue.

Why did he see such a thing? Was it punishment for treating his daughter harshly, or had he somehow experienced a prophetic dream like the seers?

One thing was certain, it wasn’t caused by an illusion or magic, but it felt like an actual memory.

A Sword Master who had reached the pinnacle in physical prowess could not be affected by mental magic.

It was impossible to be affected, and there was no way for it to happen.

If that were possible, the empire would be filled with wizards by now.

‘It's just groundless fear.'

Rowen scolded himself.

He didn’t dislike his youngest daughter.

It's just that his eye didn’t go to her as much compared to his other children. He thought he was doing rather well.

After all, his own father had been far worse.

However, why did he continue to feel regret? If his youngest daughter were to die, if she died alone as the blue screen hallucination showed, seeking her father while her breath was cut off by an orc's greatsword…

What would become of him upon finding his daughter’s cold corpse?

Would he be angry at her for tarnishing the Histania name, or would he just sit there and weep?

Rowen didn’t want to imagine it.

He didn’t want to envision himself holding his daughter’s body and crying, showing a fragile figure steeped in late regret—an unsightly sight to linger on something that's already passed. If that should be the case, he should have treated her better from the start.

A knight, at least a knight, should always be aware that death is near…

"Halt… halt!"

One of the leading knights pointing to dense shrubs called out. The female knight gestured with her open palm to the approaching party.

"There's a body."

Between the shrubs pointed out by the female knight lay a corpse that had gone cold.

For a moment, Rowen felt as if his heart had stopped.

All manner of negative thoughts writhed in his mind, and cold sweat soaked the reins held in his hand.

The pale hand visible through the shrubs, long hair, and what appeared to be a sword about a meter long reminded him of someone he knew all too well.

Rowen swiftly dismounted his horse.

‘It’s impossible. This cannot be,' he thought.

He knew his son would find it laughable to see him, a Knight Commander, dismounting in such a manner without any control over his expression. Rowen was engaging in the very behavior he detested most, but petty thoughts like these were far from his unsettled mind.

Rowen's only focus was to reach the shrubs quickly.

As the knight crouched, examining the body, a small nameplate was raised in hand.

Rowen's body stiffened more and more.

‘Please.'

‘It cannot be.'

‘Such things are mere illusions. Don’t be afraid, Rowen.'

In that moment, Rowen found himself contemptible.

—I’m glad I eavesdropped when brother and father were talking. Father said he improved his skills by hunting orcs in the Hamel Mountains when he was young…

Hanna, who picked up on the story told to the eldest, had climbed the mountain with a face full of expectation.

And…

—Father would’ve fought without fear against something like this. Maybe if I catch it, Father might even praise me.

She was trembling, facing an orc four times her size, with a sword in hand.

Rowen's eyes clenched shut.

‘Please, God…'

He had never imagined the day would come when he would seek God.

The Pope would surely laugh if he saw this.

As the knight rummaged through the disfigured body, they held up an adventurer's badge and said,

"The age is 51. An A-Class adventurer."

Rowen's face, which had gone pale, slowly regained its warmth.

"From now on, I'll move by myself. The Knight Order will split up into groups of five, focusing the search around the orc territory."

"Yes!"

Following the resonant affirmation of the knights, Rowen spoke coldly.

"Make haste."

***

"This is how you do it."

At the orc encampment at the peak of the Hamel Mountains, a pink picnic mat was neatly spread out.

Like someone who had come for a picnic, Hanna, who was pouring green tea with sandwiches and potato salad laid out before her, looked at me with a serene expression.

"How can I do that!"

"It's simple. Just swing your sword toward the carotid artery and they'll collapse with a thud. Easy, isn't it?"

"That's possible because it’s you, the butler."

"Not at all. Ms. Hanna, you should be able to do it as well, right?"

I cocked my head slightly while speaking to Hanna.

"Probably?"

Around the picnic mat were orc corpses strewn about haphazardly. Not just the bodies of the infamous red orcs but also orc warriors with their heads neatly separated from their bodies, saying their final farewells to the world.

Now it’s Hanna’s turn to show what she can do. I looked at her brimming with anticipation.

"You can handle this much, right?"

"How is that possible!"

We had positioned ourselves at the location nearest to the mountain's peak.

Monsters labeled as ‘elite' boast high value due to their rarity.

Even monsters with the same name boast three to four times the power when prefixed with the term ‘elite.'

I vaguely remember from the original work that Michail often got trampled by elite monsters, so I have a rough idea of their habitat characteristics.

Firstly, elite monsters must not have been interfered with by human hands.

Because the parts of elite monsters are expensive and they're rare, they usually form groups and inhabit isolated regions.

That’s why Hanna and I chose a location at the peak of the mountain where people are unlikely to tread, and we managed to find a habitat with a fair number of elite orcs.

Of course, there were more elite orcs than anticipated, which posed a problem.

"There are too many corpses."

Around us, adventurer corpses were piled as high as towers. The bodies of veteran adventurers, equipped with quality gear and ripe with age, were abnormally scattered everywhere.

There were even signs of actions not attributable to orcs among them, but that was not a pressing concern at the moment.

Hanna's growth is what matters now.

After slaying a decent orc and demonstrating the strategy, Hanna, with a sigh, scrutinized every aspect of my stance.

It was a good posture.

"After all the orcs you've beheaded, are you frightened now? Don’t worry too much."

"But those were regular orcs… This is my first time facing an elite orc."

"It’s okay."

I trust Hanna.

I'm here to protect her, and with her capabilities, she should barely manage.

Orcs are slow.

They wield heavy greatswords and focus on landing powerful blows. In contrast, Hanna is nimble and swift.

When they swing their greatswords, Hanna has sufficient agility to dodge and counter.

She might not realize it, but I am certain that Hanna's talent lies in her agility.

In the original work, she may have failed to deal a fatal blow to an orc due to a lack of strength, but now it's different.

Hanna stood up, bracing herself on her knees.

"Alright. Let's give it a try. You'll help out if anything happens, right?"

"Of course."

Yes, if anything happens, I'll assist her.

With that thought in mind, I picked up a rock and aimed at a giant orc visible at the bottom of the mountain slope.

"Hey? Why are you reaching out that way…? There’s a smaller orc over there."

As my hand stretched toward the giant orc, Hanna awkwardly smiled and met my gaze. I showed her the provocative smile I had learned from the young lady.

If you're going to do it, might as well face a strong one.

"Get ready."

"No, wait a minute, butler?"

"Shoot!"

-Thwack!

The orc's cries echoed loudly following the dull sound.

-Wooooooaaaah!!!

Quickly, I hid behind Hanna.

"Good luck!"

I didn't forget to cheer.

"Son of a…!"

It was my first time realizing that Hanna could curse so well.

***

Hanna successfully defeated the orc.

Without sustaining any fatal wounds.

Only minor bruises, concluding the fight splendidly. "Good job."

"I know. I know I worked hard."

Her becoming shameless like me was a pleasing sight to see. After all, no one notices you when you're too modest.

I handed her the water bottle.

"You were perfect. Especially how you slipped between the ribs to strike the vitals—truly impressive."

"Really?"

"Yes. If you were a little slow, you will surely meet the goddess."

"Tch… And?"

"Hmm?"

Hanna blushed.

Looking at me shyly and then quickly turning her head away was reminiscent of a girl her age.

"Isn't there more? I think there are many aspects of today to be praised…"

"Pfft."

"Why are you laughing?!"

"Just because."

Looks like my praises were still insufficient.

────────────────

[Q. The Short-Lived Misfortune of the Extra ‘Hanna']

1. Boost her self-esteem with praise.

(9/10)

2. Make the ‘affection level' reach 40 or above.

[Affection: 51]

3. Defeat an ‘Elite Orc Swordsman.'

(1/1)

────────────────

I thought the quest would be completed if I praised her for killing the orc, but it seems she's grown resistant to the praises I’ve given her so far.

Praising isn’t hard, and she really did well today, so I shouldn't hold back.

But.

It would have been better without any uninvited guests.

"Looks like we have a visitor?"

A man with a face like a praying mantis slowly emerged from behind the trees. It seemed he had been stealthily observing us and revealed himself once he saw Hanna had retired.

He was sneering at Hanna and me.

The dagger at his waist.

Facial features that would fit a dashing martial artist.

And the undesirable combination that screams backstabbing once you get close.

He was the typical bandit you’d find anywhere.

Only.

A particularly nasty sort of bandit.

The bandit's clothes were covered with adventurer badges. They were sloppily pinned to his armor, looking quite terrible as if they were trophies.

I knew who he was.

Though he didn't know me.

Such an unpleasant appearance and bizarre attire could only belong to one character from the novel.

The Hunter of Adventurers.

The villain who hunted numerous adventurers midway through the story, joining a heretical sect to become an Archbishop of Madness.

He was a tough one, dealing severe damage to Ruin with tricky magic and special dark magic.

‘So that's why there were an abnormal number of adventurer corpses. They seemed skilled enough to take down elite orcs.'

The black magic circles on the ground and the giddily grinning mantis-faced man made me quite uneasy.

I commented upon seeing him.

"Wow. A villain."

I continued with my introduction.

"I'm also a villain, you know."